Butte semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1886-1890, 1887-03-16
THE HEADSMAN..

Some years ago on New Years eve Q gem
| tlemanly looking man, accompanied by bib
valet, was travelling in . cabriolet along the
| highroad which leads from Paris to the little
| French Protestant town of Anduze, in the
| department of tue Gard. It was a dark
| night, the snow lay heavy on the ground
| and the wind blew with uncommon fury.
Tho travellers had just got beyond q small
| chapel that rose among the trees in the out
skirts of Anduze when they were assaulted
| by four armed rufiians intent on murder and
/ plumber. Notwithstanding the violence Of
the attack the gentleman and his attendant
defended themselves with GOODNESS and cour-
aga. The valet, however, who had been
wounded ct the outset, soon tainted from
loss Of blood, and his master would no doubt
have succumbed to superior numbers had not
the clear light OF the moon issuing from an
opening in the clouds Unexpectedly disclosed
the stalwart figure Of q young man who,
| with . pistol in each hand, suddenly came
| upon the scene and put the whole gang to
flight.
The gentleman, who was dressed in black,
/ eagerly clutched the hand Of his rescuer.
"Young man." said he, ~ owe my life to
your timely interference. Say, what can I
| do for you in RETURN"
"Thank you," replied the other. II saw
| you were a stranger and the weaker party,
| SO it was my duty to side with you against
| those villains. Besides, I doubt whether you
I can be of any assistance to me-"
"Well," responded the traveller, ito tell
| the truth, I am not a very rich man. Still,
I I'M in easy circumstances, and II
money!
'Tbank you again." replied the brave
hearted young fellow, ''but, I repeat, you
can be of no assistance to me-"
"Forgive me if I insist, " demonstrated the
| stranger. "You are POOR and suffering,
without even a coat on this cold night, and
! your face is pale as if from want. Accept at
least these few louis until l see you again."
And so saying, the stranger compelled
him to take the proffered purse.
"Well," musingly acquiesced the young
fellow, II accept, though not for myself. It
shall be for another"
"And how, may I ask, came you to be so
seasonably at hand when l was about to sue
cumbs'' asked the gentleman.
"Oh, by q mere chance" hastily replied
his rescuer. II heard a scufle as I came
along the road, so I quickened my pace, and
well, you know the rest"
II know that you have saved my life.
Do tell me what I can do in return, +" insisted
the stranger.
cit is very unlikely that you can be Of any
assistance to me. Yet who knows? Viii
you favor me with your name and business
here:s"
At this request the gentleman in black
knit his brows and remained silent.
"Did my question escape your civi1ly in
quired the young man.
."Well, no." calculated the stranger.
"You see I am travelling incog., and, for the
present at least, I should prefer not to men,
ton my name; in fact, I wish to say as little
as possible about the business that brings me
to Andu1e. II compiled with your request
you might perhaps repent having rendered
mo 50 signal a service. But you, my noble
fellow, can give me your nam and address,
50 that I may call on you and assist you as
Tar As lies in my power"
A short silence interviewed, during which
the young man bowed bis head and sighed
audibly.
"Perhaps you did not hear my question:"
remarked the gentleman.
"Oh, yes I did" replied the young man,
''but I, also, cannot answer. Suffer me- to
reveal neither my abode nor my name. You
might have cause to blush at the remem-
brance of him who tonight has enlisted your
sympathy"
Just then, as midnight tolled the knell of
the departing year, a joyfulpeal of bells rang
out clear from the wayside chapel.
Both waved their hands as if to say: "a
happy New Yearr'-a wish that neither
could find it is his heart to utter. Then they
separated, the young man starting toward
the mountains and the gentleman in black,
with his disabled servant, going in the oppo-
site direction toward Anduze.
Aperson passing through the little town
of Anduze early on the following day might
have inferred from the crowd in the market
place that the fete of some patron saint was
being commemOrated. Old men, women and
children predominated. Dirty ragamufins
were to be seen on every available elevation,
and the well-to-do "took it easy'' on the
straw chairs and green benches Of the Cafe
du Roy. Not an open window was to be
seen that was without it's full contingent Of
laughing faces; while the round sun looked
down luridly through the foggy morning.
Anduze, however, beinga Protestant town
the bulwark Of religious liberty and the
stronghold of the famous Camisards who
gave such trouble to Louis XIV and brought
about the Dragonnades-there could be nc
thought of the populace turning out to render
public homage to any saint. What, then,
could be the cause Of such a crowd at this
early hour?
Look into the middle of the market place
where something towering above the heads
Of the f~luctuating crowd arrests the eye.
There, jealousy guarded by four well
mounted soldiers, is q square scaffold of
peculiar construction, all draped in crimson
cloth, with a blood red flight of steps, a blood
red billet, two blood red upright beams, at
the base of which is a blood red plank and at
the summit a cleaning knife. An open box
some six feet long extends by the side of this
plank, and a large basket in front, while a
vehicle waits at the foot of the scaffolding.
The truth nov flashes full upon you.
The crowd impatiently looks forward to
an execution.
An Old Woman-What a rabble in a
Protestant town, good holy Virgin.
The Beadle-Ah, dame! such sights are
rare at Anduze. IT'S well for Paris, where
an execution takes place every other day.
An Old Woman-They are lucky at Paris!
Our town, l tell you, is perfect hole.
An Urchin-I can't see. I can't!
The Beadle-'Tis Paul Fouquet who is to
have his head cut off.
A Peddler-Ah, and pray what has Paul
Fouquet done?
The Beadle-His mother was the ruin of
the family. Her drunken conduct and I'M
governable temper reduced the poor old ia
Their to despair. She had sold off nearly
every article of furniture to bay drink; some
say she even sold her own daughter, who
was as y"etty as an angel, and has since died
Of . broken heart. Pour lors, when every
bit Of household furniture was gone the old
man, who sat impotent in his armchair, up
braided his wife for her sinful conduct.
Whereupon she flew into a most violent pas
sion, and selling the water jug dashed it like
q fury at the old mans head, who, covered